Morning (Poem/SOC)

A vibration accompanies a beautiful piano riff.
The sound of chirpy twats;
Reflections of that big, yellow bastard peeking through the curtains.
Time to get up and dressed.
My hopes of sleeping forever are again thwarted.

Quick! Get dressed.
Downstairs to break my fast.
I envisage a better life as I await the ping of the microwave.

Eat; drink; brush teeth; shoes on.
A final check of my bags and I’m out.
It’s raining again.
Are we surprised?
It always rains even when it doesn’t.

A bus ride:
Half spent working on my dream;
Half spent hoping nobody comes near me!
It’s too early for the sounds of others.
Does that foreign person need to speak so loudly on their phone?

Final stop in sight, I stand to avoid the crowd.
It never works and they always surround me.
The walk to my ultimate destination;
Is this what it feels like when one walks to the gallows?
Music or a shop visit can distract, but only so much.
Pricks incessantly cut my path;
Why does that always happen?

The tall tower rises before me like one of the Devil’s talons;
Despair surely waits within.
Climbing the stairs, I stop for relief along the way.
My prison for the next nine and a half hours;
I set up and make myself as comfy as my discomfort will allow.
The utterances of the term “Good morning”;
As hollow as the heart within the wall I long ago constructed.
Will that prick arrive today?
One can only hope not!

And now I wait.

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